Giddius and Marcellus head back the way they came.

“Get up and walk,” Trevus orders.

I do as he says. His sword stays pointed at my back as I follow the others. He’ll be on edge for a while.

Becky thrashes away from Giddius. She’s stuck between the thick branches overhead and the underbrush tangled around her feet. Giddius tries to free her again, but she wards him off with her wild bucks and kicks.

The moment Giddius adjusts a branch pinning Becky, she lets out a wailing neigh. Her hips slam into his body, landing him on his back.  The same thorns that cut my arms have driven her mad. She’s hurt because of me.

I take two quick steps to Becky, too fast for Trevus to yank me back. My hand touches her fur, and my fingers brush her skin. We connect. The jitters in her muscles feel as if they could be mine, and the pain in her body mixes with my own. Slow. Relax. Breathe. I calm her mind, but not so far to put her to sleep. Her head droops low, and she lets out a rumbling breath.

I step around Giddius. My hand was on Becky for less than a second, and her thrashing against the thorns has ceased. All three of them are staring. I did it for Becky, not for them.

“Was that…” Marcellus trails off.

“Becky just doesn’t like men,” I say. “It’s nothing more.” I follow back up the path we came to escape their gawking.

“What precise sorcery do her hands harbor?” Marcellus asks.

I continue walking ahead of Trevus.

“I know not,” Trevus says. “The touch of Jade’s hand is enough to incapacitate a man, but I have gathered no more.”

“Girly,” Marcellus calls. “What sorcery do you perform?”

My eyes remain forward.

Giddius is guiding Becky behind us. “The success of our venture is dependent on her capabilities. We should be informed of their nature,” he says.

“Just leave her be for now,” Trevus says in a hushed voice.

After leaving the forest, we make our way back towards the camp. At this distance, all I can see is the small orange glow of the fire with the outlines of the two remaining horses. I didn’t realize how far Becky took me.

Soon we’re all back at the fire. Giddius and Marcellus hitch the horses. Becky doesn’t have any visible scratches from the thorns. Her skin is tougher than mine.

“Jade, sit here,” Trevus says. My hands are bare, but his sword is sheathed.

I sit on the ground beside the fire, and he hands me both sleeves. My forearms are scratched with thin lines of blood. I hesitate. Pulling up the sleeves will hurt.

“Just cover your palms,” Trevus says.

I put both hands inside the sleeves, and Trevus tightens the little rope around my wrists to keep them anchored. They look silly flapping about like this, but I’m grateful the linen isn’t brushing against my raw arms.

Trevus retrieves a pack of small leaves and a mortar bowl from Gramps’s saddle pouch. He takes a seat beside me and begins crushing the leaves with a pestle.

Giddius and Marcellus settle into their pouches, leaving only the two of us awake.

The rhythm of the pestle striking the mortar drowns out the noises of the wilderness. Knock, grind, knock, grind, knock, grind. Its predictability is relaxing. I want to crawl back into my own sleeping pouch, but Trevus was explicit that I sit here beside him.

“Tell me about the one that died at your hands,” Trevus says.

I look down at my sleeves. It’s a story I wish I could forget. I’ve never spoken the memory aloud.

“You made this choice. Tell me,” he says.

“She was a woman,” I say. At the time Mehlia seemed much larger than me, so different from me, but now I’ve grown to be just like her.

Trevus pours water into a pot on the fire. “What happened, Jade? Share the whole tale.”

“And what if you retaliate after hearing it?” As a Versillian officer, he has the authority to kill me for breaking their laws.

“Your aged crimes are of no impact to our objective,” Trevus says. “Regardless of what history you share, our agreement still stands.”

I bring my knees up to my chest. “If my past doesn’t affect the rescue, why must I be made to share it?” I don’t want to relive this painful memory just to satisfy his curiosity.

“There is a hesitation within you. It threatens our objective. I must know its nature.” His eyes betray his conviction. He won’t let this slide.

My gaze returns to the crackling fire. How do I even start a story that ends with someone dying at my hands?

Trevus takes the boiling water off the fire and pours some into the mortar, mixing it with the crushed leaves. He’s giving me time. He’s aware it’s difficult to share.

My life was so different back then. Looking at me now, Trevus wouldn’t know. “I was a child.”

He continues the rhythmic grinding with the pestle, allowing me space to speak.

“My village was small, nothing like Antiock or even Cidon. There were no walls.” I still remember my shock upon laying eyes on Antiock. It was so large and intimidating, like a frightening alien civilization, one that was about to devour me.

“My parents disappeared before that, but others looked out for me,” I say.

I take a long breath. “It was raining when they came. These men and women, twenty of them altogether, herded us outside the hall.

“They were Versillian militia,” I continue, “but they were bare of uniform or armor. They appeared like caravan traders before revealing their weapons.

“The commander was seeking a girl with sorcery.” I’ll never forget his face, his light brown hair and ghostly green eyes. “My people knew of my connection, and word had spread beyond our fields. Before this, I only connected to others at their request. But when two of those frightening men grabbed my arms, dragging me away from the group to a place I didn’t know, my world crumbled.

“I put both of them to sleep. They fell like rocks. I ran, but there was nowhere to go. Open fields surrounded our homes, offering not even an inch to hide behind. I fled for the place I felt safe – my room. I was afraid of them, but in truth, I had only myself to fear. Hating them would have been easy.”

Trevus takes my hand. The leaves in the mortar have been crushed into a green paste. Dipping some on his finger, he touches it against one of the longer cuts on my arms. The sting makes me wince, but I stay still.

“On my rush between the houses, a woman leaped out from around a corner. I still remember her face – dark hair, fine features, blue eyes. She crashed into me, and we hit the ground together. Her arms latched onto my body. I tried again and again to pull away, but she was so much stronger. The others would have me soon. In my panic, we connected. I was desperate for her to stop, just to let go of me. Just stop, stop, stop. She did.”

Trevus spreads the paste on my arms. His silence urges me to continue.

“Her mind settled like it did when I put others to sleep, but then it went further. Her body slowed. Everything became soft, blurred and distant, and soon I couldn’t feel her anymore. This was different.” Just thinking about it makes my gut wrench in knots. “In one moment, I was connected to a living, breathing person, then suddenly it broke. I couldn’t connect again. It was as if I was touching stone.

“I didn’t move from that spot. I couldn’t. The other men and women were quick to subdue me. At first, they celebrated. But not long after, they discovered that their woman was not asleep. She had died.

“They forced me to return to Versillia with them. Her husband awaited her arrival at the gates of Antiock. I’ll never forget his scream. No one ever looked at me the way he did that day.”

Trevus wraps a thin strip of linen around the cuts. I don’t say anymore.

His eyes meet mine. “You need not loath yourself, Jade. An accidental death does not equate to murder. Weapons are not bestowed upon children because children cannot comprehend their weight. You were born with mighty swords for hands. ‘Tis not a weight a child is fit to wield.”

He tightens the last of the bandages. Am I really not to blame? I’ve spent the last ten years locked up in a cell, with regular reminders from the guards that I was a criminal, that I had taken a life and was lucky to still have my own. No one has ever said anything like this before.